Nisan 14
by LucyCrewe11
Summary: A one-shot look at the death of Jesus.


**AN: Tonight is a very important night. The anniversary of Jesus Christ's death (aka, Nisan 14) falls, this year, on tonight, March 30th. So, in honor of the memory of the greatest man who ever lived, I wrote this little Bible-themed one-shot about the events leading up to his death. I have done my best to be as faithful to the actual Bible as humanly possible; adding only a few minor details here and there. Oh, and PUH-LEASE don't flame in your reviews. I'll be really, really hurt if someone flames this story-because it's about Jesus for goodness sake, you can't flame Jesus! BTW: Please don't comment with "Dude, Jesus, liek died on a cross, what'd you make it a stake 4?" because let me tell you flat out, the Bible says it was a stake, I'm trying to stay faithful to the Bible with this story, thus, it's a stake. Get off my back and stay off, okay? If you have a problem with my Bible stories then, guess what? You don't have to read them! **

_The chief priests and the older men of the people, angry that Jesus had, time and time again, shown their hypocrisy, went looking for a way to put him to death. One of the twelve, Judas Iscariot offered to betray his lord for thirty pieces of silver-merely the price of a slave._

_This is the true story, my dears, of Nisan 14._

It was the first day of the unfermented cakes of the Passover; Jesus disciples, who had been watching him with quiet curiosity, waiting for his answer, asked, "Where do you want us to prepare for you to eat the Passover?"

Jesus replied, "Go into the city, and a man carrying an earthenware vessel will encounter you."

And so the disciples obeyed and went to the man in the city. The man was hospitable and so did lead them into an upper room where they and the Great Teacher could have the Passover.

When the evening came Jesus went with the twelve, and as they all sat down at the long table of bronze-colored wood, their clay cups and plates before them, Jesus made a startling announcement.

"Truly I say to you," he told them gravely, "One of you that is eating with me will betray me."

Because of their love for the lord, this naturally grieved them. And so they said, in voices full of despair and terror, crying out to Jesus for some reassurance, "It is not I, is it?"

Simon Peter did not think it was him, for he believed he would follow Jesus to the very death, but even he too asked, "It isn't me, is it?"

Leaning forward and raising his dark brow in faux-innocence, all for the sake of show, Judas Iscariot said, "It is not I, is it, Rabbi?"

Looking straight into his eyes, Jesus quietly replied, "You yourself said it."

The meal went on in silence for a little longer. After what Jesus had just told them, and as they knew he never lied, no one really felt very much like speaking.

Then, Jesus took a loaf, prayed over it, broke it, and gave it to them. "Take this and eat it, for this means my body."

And they took and ate.

After that, Jesus took a cup of crimson wine as ruby-red as blood, and-after giving thanks-said, "Drink, all of you, for this means my blood of the covenant, which is to be poured out on behalf of many for forgiveness of sins."

They drank.

"Keep doing this in rememberance of me each year," added the Christ.

Even on that very night, the last Passover Jesus would ever take with them, a dispute arose between his apostles over who was the greatest. With kindness and patience, Jesus once more, as he always had, gently reproved them.

Jesus also had to tell them something else he knew they would not like to hear. "You will all desert me tonight, when I am taken, you shall all be stumbled, for it is written: I will strike the Sheppard and the flock will be scattered about."

Nearly indignant, Simon Peter cried, "I will not!"

Jesus smiled sadly at his friend, "But you will, Peter."

"Not I!" Simon Peter insisted. "Although all the others are stumbled in connection with you, I will never be. I am willing to go with you even to the death."

"Truly I say to you," the Christ answered, "On this night, before a cock crows, you will disown me three times."

"I won't," said Simon Peter; "even if I have to die with you, I won't."

But the Great Teacher knew he would.

Later Jesus went to Gethsemane taking Simon (the one called Peter) and the two sons of Zebedee along with him.

"My soul is deeply grieved, even to the death," he told them, "keep awake and pray."

But alas, after going off by himself to pray, saying to god, "My Father, let not as I will, but as you will, take place," and coming back to them, he found them asleep each time.

Finally, he said, "Look! Get up! The hour has drawn near for the Son of man to be betrayed into the hands of sinners."

And while Jesus Christ was yet speaking, Judas came with armed men and kissed him very tenderly (for this was the sign by which the guards were to know who to take into custody) on the cheek. "Good day, Rabbi."

"Judas," said Jesus. "Do you betray me with a kiss?"

Those with him saw what was about to happen. "Lord! Have we not our swords? Shall we strike them for your sake?"

Simon Peter took it a step further. He lifted his sword and cut off the ear of the guard closest to him.

"Simon, put the sword back in its place, do you not think I can appeal to my father and have angels come and rescue me? This must be done, for the word to be fulfilled, do you understand?"

Peter nodded sadly, put his sword back where it belonged, and watched as Jesus healed the man's ear.

And they took Jesus away and make false accusations against him all night long. Those who had no hearts, who were wicked, they beat him with their fists and spat upon him and mockingly said, "Prophesy to us, king of the Jews, tell us, which of us slapped you? Ha ha ha."

Meantime, though the others had run off for fear, Simon Peter had gone on following at a distance and was at that moment in the courtyard of the place they had taken Jesus to.

A servant girl in a knitted shawl stared at him intently. "This man also was with Jesus."

Others turned and looked.

Peter felt fear grip his heart. "I-I do not know the man."

"Certainly you must! Why your dialect-your very accent-gives you away."

"I don't know what you speak of, I do not know any Jesus of Nazarene."

"Course you do!"

His face gone white, his cheeks quite red, and his fists clenched, "I swear I do not know the man!"

A crowing noise boomed through the courtyard and the gate house; and Peter felt his heart sink, remorse slapping at him oh so cruelly. For he remembered now Jesus' words, "Before a cock crows, you will disown me three times."

Outside he went; to weep and shed bitter tears.

When the morning came, Judas the betrayer, realizing what he had done, raced to the temple, and cried, "Take the money back!" Oh, perhaps he wished he could take back more than just the silver monies!

"Why?" they said coolly, uncaring.

"Because I sinned when I betrayed the Lord,"

"What does that matter to us?"

He stood, opened mouthed, gaping at them.

"That is your problem, not ours."

So Judas stretched out his hands and flung the silver money back at them. The coins made pinging sounds as they hit the stone of the temple. And then, after this, he hanged himself. Death rather than true repentance.

Meanwhile, Jesus was taken to Pontius Pilate, the ruler of the district of Judea, under even more false accusations.

Pilate took in the sight of the pitiful, honest-faced man; battered and bruised from the poor treatment given to him the night before.

"Are you the King of the Jews?"

"Did you come up with that question yourself," asked Jesus, meekly, "or did others tell you of me?"

"I am not a Jew, am I?" answered Pilate.

"My Kingdom is no part of this world, my attendants did not fight."

"Well," said Pilate, rather impressed with the respectful tone in the voice of the man who was accused of being so bad. He could find no fault with him. "Are you a King, or aren't you?"

"You yourself say I am," Jesus told him.

Pilate, marveling at this remarkable man, said what he had been thinking since first meeting him, "I find no fault in him."

Now there was a custom to release a prisoner around the time of the Passover; so Pilate thought he ought to have Jesus released. After all, the man had done no wrong, nor was he dangerous. Only good could come from letting him go on his way.

But alas the crowds, paid off and riled up, did not want him to.

"Shall I give you the King of the Jews?"

"No!" they screamed. "Barabbas! Barabbas the robber! We want him, not this Jesus."

Pilate, unable to stand up for what he knew was right, had Jesus put in purple garments with golden fridges after having him scourged. The soldiers braided a crown of long, thick brown thorns, sharp as knives, and pressed it down onto the head of Jesus Christ.

They slapped him and mocked and spat some more. "Good day, King of the Jews! Heh..."

Jesus stood, strong through it all, the blood pouring from the crown of his head, thanks to the thorns pressed down upon it.

Pilate's conscience was pricking at him, so he took the Son of man out and said to the people, "Look, your king, I show him to you now, ought I not to let him go?"

"No! Did you not hear us? Barabbas is the one we want released!"

"But what shall I do with Jesus?"

"Impale him!"

"Impale your king?"

"We have no king other than Caesar!"

Because of their cruelty, Jesus was taken and hung on a torture stake, his hands and feet nailed onto it. Even then, his outer garments taken, his blood pouring harder still, he was mocked. Those very criminals at the sides of him, they mocked and said mean and provoking things to him; but Jesus did not become flared up with rage.

One of them said, "You're the Christ, aren't you? Save yourself and us."

The other rebuked, "Do you not fear god at all? We are in the same judgment, we did wrong; we deserve what we get. But this man, Jesus, he did nothing wrong."

Jesus turned his head and looked right at the man who had spoken up for him.

"Jesus, remember me when you get into your Kingdom," he whispered.

"Truly I tell you today," said Jesus, "You will be with me in paradise."

Then the time had come; God had to pull his holy sprit away from his son so that he could die for mankind's sins.

"Father, into your hands I entrust my sprit!" he cried out in a loud voice.

After this, he expired.

_Remember, the Christ gave up his life for you, and remember what he said, "Keep doing this in remembrance of me"_

**AN: Reviews are welcome, no flames though. Oh, and for those of you who go to the Memorial every year, and are going tonight, I hope you have a nice time. **


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